Who Could Love Me?
by FlamingoOnFire
Summary: Haymitch doesn't understand why Effie loves him; after all, who could love a killer? Short little one-shot.


**A/N: One little line in one little song gave me the idea for this. She Had The World by Panic! At The Disco. Silly songs, being inspirational and whatnot.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters, blah blah.**

Haymitch was slouched on the couch, face covered by the crook of his arm. He'd spent the last week or so thinking about his and Effie's relationship, and no matter how hard he tried - or which angle he analyzed it from - he couldn't figure out why she had feelings for him. He sighed deeply, flinging his arm off his face and staring up at the ceiling. _Either I'm lucky, or she's crazy_, he thought.

Sitting up, he rested his elbows on his knees and looked at his empty glass. Standing up and snatching it off the table, Haymitch paused for a second, steadying himself. He made his way to the kitchen to pour another drink, grabbing the first bottle off the counter that he saw. He didn't really care what it was, as long as it was alcohol. His thoughts kept going and going; he couldn't shut them off. _She's familiar with seeing kids kill each other. Familiar with seeing kids she knew get slaughtered. She's fully aware that I've done that. That I've killed. How can that not bother her?_

Pouring a generous amount into his glass, Haymitch put the bottle back and gripped the edges of the counter. He hung his head and shut his eyes, trying desperately to stop the merry-go-round of thoughts in his head. It didn't work, of course - it just confused him more.

Effie was everything Haymitch wasn't; cheerful, bubbly, optimistic. He'd hated her their first few years together, but she slowly grew on him. It was something of a relief after a while, seeing a smile so bright, so often. To see something other than the terror on every Tribute's face that he'd mentored thus far. The smiles she had on during Reapings disgusted him somewhat, but it was the little ones he'd catch her with when she was looking at him when she thought he wasn't paying attention.

Those were the smiles that made his heart stumble over its own beating; made it jumpy and erratic. Those were the smiles that made him feel something he hadn't felt since before he was Reaped. Haymitch opened his eyes, exhaling slowly. Releasing the counter, he straightened up and picked up his glass, taking a long drink. He gazed at the liquid as he swirled it around absentmindedly, giving up on fighting off the mess in his head.

Tipping his head back slightly to look at the ceiling again, his expression softened considerably, taking on a sadness. "I'm a murderer," he said softly. "I've ruined families' lives, taking their children away from them. I've caused so many people so much grief." he said sadly, but in a matter-of-fact tone.

Blinking hard a few times, Haymitch looked back down at his drink and downed the rest of it easily, being so accustomed to the burn. "Oh, Effie..." he stared at a spot on the counter, eyes unfocused. "I wish I knew why she loves someone who's responsible for ending lives, someone who's always so bitter," he reached up and scratched at an itch on his shoulder. "Who could love me?"

He jumped when he felt a small hand rest on top of his, skin too soft to belong to anyone besides Effie Trinket. He stopped scratching and went to intertwine his fingers with hers, but she pulled her hand away before he could. Moving to his side, Effie looked up at him with a small smile. "I could love you, Haymitch," she said, making him look at her, locking eyes. "I could, and I do. Your past doesn't matter to me. You're not a murderer; you're a survivor. You beat the odds."

Giving a half-shrug, Haymitch shook his head slightly. "It's still my fault," he whispered. "All of the heartbreak, the tears, the torn apart families...all because of me."

Effie pushed herself up on her tip-toes, being shorter than she normally was, thanks to her lack of heels. "No. Stop that kind of thinking. It was literally life or death, as soon as the gong rang out. You did what you had to." Haymitch broke eye contact and started to turn his head away, but Effie reached up and took his face in her hands, forcing him to look at her.

"Listen to me. _I love you_, Haymitch," she said sternly. "Nothing will change that - including what you've done in the past. It's over. It's pointless to dwell on the past. You have to move on."

Haymitch smiled at her words. _She loves me_, he thought slowly. _Effie Trinket really loves me. _Pulling her hands off his face, he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close, catching her off guard. "And I love you, Princess. Like it or not." He said quietly, resting his cheek on top of her head. Surprised, Effie's eyes widened slightly before she quickly regained her composure. She snaked her arms up around his neck, nuzzling into his chest and sighing happily. "I definitely like it," she said, smiling. "And the same goes for me." Haymitch gave her a small squeeze. "Don't worry; I like it, too."

**Eh, not really sure how I feel about this one. I thought I'd give a shot at another reason why Haymitch drinks. I'd imagine most Victors would feel an enormous amount of guilt. Haymitch is a legit bamf, but he still has emotions. He ain't no sociopath. You lovely little readers should let me know what you think, yes?  
**


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